


Little Houses

by whatdoidowiththisthingnow



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-26 06:57:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20738093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoidowiththisthingnow/pseuds/whatdoidowiththisthingnow
Summary: Soft Sanvers is my favorite Sanvers, and I'm happy to spread the fluff!! Hope you enjoy it, @SanvEOErs!! :)





	Little Houses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaurysPrince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurysPrince/gifts).

It’s Friday night, and Alex doesn’t even wait for the clock at the DEO to hit five. At 4:30, all her lab tests are complete, so she practically runs out of the building, barely breaking her stride to say goodbye to her sister or J’onn.

A few hours ago, Maggie had told her she got out of work early and she was instituting a “phones off” night. Their jobs were unpredictable, and all-consuming—and important, of course—but they gave themselves a few free passes a month to be undisturbed while they did…whatever it was they wanted to do without interruption.

Usually something dirty.

She’s still humming to herself when she opens the door to their apartment to a fully prepared dinner and a table set for two, complete with wine glasses, candles, and…Maggie’s laptop?

That gives her pause, but she tries to maintain her excitement, “Mags? You home?”

Her wife is nowhere to be seen, so she takes off her shoes and hangs up her jacket and helmet, “Maggie?”

The door opens behind her, and Maggie walks in with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of Alex’s favorite wine, “Hey! You’re early,” she grins.

“The lab wasn’t busy,” Alex shrugs, “Plus, you said ‘phones off,’ sooo…” she grabs Maggie by the waist and pulls her in for a kiss.

Maggie kisses her back, but when they pull apart, she looks away, “Um…right. I _did_ say that…”

Alex furrows her brow, “Sorry. I just assumed…I mean, usually when we say ‘no phones’…”

“I know,” Maggie agrees, but she skirts around Alex and heads toward the kitchen, “But I actually had something else in mind for tonight.”

Alex follows, still confused, but falling into sync with Maggie as they put the flowers in a vase and open the bottle of wine. She joins her at the kitchen table a few minutes later, “Ok…so what _did_ you have in mind?”

Maggie looks nervous, “It can wait until after dinner,” she mumbles.

…

They make it about halfway through dinner, but whatever reason Maggie had for instituting their no phone rule is the elephant in the room that refuses to be ignored any longer.

“Ok, I’ll just tell you,” Maggie sighs.

Alex puts down her silverware and gives her wife her full attention.

“I was talking to that realtor—”

She drops her head in her hands, “Seriously?! House hunting?? That’s what all this is about?”

Maggie’s shoulders fall, “Yes! Because you won’t talk about it!”

Alex groans, “Because I _don’t care_.”

“You have to care, Alex!”

“I don’t, babe. I’m sorry.” She reaches out for Maggie’s hand, and tries to look as apologetic as possible, “We’ve sat here for weeks, scrolling through hundreds of listings, and I could not care less. They all look the same!”

“But they don’t!”

“To _you_, no. Apparently. To me, they all have walls that need to be painted, and floors that may or may not need to be replaced, and cabinets you hate, and not enough windows, and a million other things that I cannot find it in my heart to care about.”

“That’s bullshit,” Maggie scoffs. She pushes her chair back from the table and starts noisily gathering the dirty dishes. “You _do_ care, because you tell me to ‘pick whatever’ and then we spend our weekends going to open houses at places you dismiss five minutes after we show up.”

“Ok that last house was haunted—you said so yourself! That’s not my fault.”

She drops the dishes in the sink with a clatter, and sighs, “Alex, our lease is up in a few months, and I really don’t want to be homeless. Or live with your mother.”

Alex brings the rest of the dishes to the sink, and tries to be gentler, “What’s wrong with here? I like it. It’s our home.”

Maggie puts on a face that is dangerously more effective than Kara’s pout, “I want a bedroom with a door, babe.”

She winces, thinking about all the times a certain Kryptonian with no understanding of boundaries has spontaneously barged into the apartment, “Yeah, ok.”

“And, I don’t know…maybe a walk in closet? Or a little garden?” she grins, “Or space on the counter for that espresso machine Kara bought us for our wedding that we haven’t been able to take out of the box yet…”

Alex smiles despite herself, and pulls Maggie into her arms, “Low blow, Mrs. Sawyer-Danvers. You know coffee is my weakness.”

Maggie runs her hands down the backs of Alex’s arms, “And think of all the days you can wake up—uninterrupted, thanks to our new bedroom door—to a delicious cup of coffee, if we had a counter big enough to put it on…” she muses.

Alex drops her head on Maggie’s shoulder and grumbles, “Fiiiiine. Show me the listings.”

Maggie brightens instantly, and practically skips off to grab her laptop from the corner of the table. Alex grabs the half-full wine bottle and carries it to the couch, “But if you say the word ‘wainscoting’ even one time, I’m out for good, I mean it.”

Maggie stops and drops her laptop back on the table. She looks over at Alex and frowns, “Is this really so horrible for you?”

She was mostly teasing about the wainscoting, but the way Maggie asks the question, she feels like she hurt her for real. “I’m sorry. I’m trying, Maggie. I’m not good at this. _This—_” she gestures around the apartment, “feels like home. Not any of those pictures. You’re here, and all our stuff is here, and all our memories are here…I don’t feel that in those other places. I don’t know that I ever will—unless we move, of course.”

She’s annoyed, yes, but this is the first time Alex has offered up any kind of explanation for her hatred of house hunting—despite the fact that she insists she _does_ actually want to move. Maggie looks around the studio apartment, “So when you picture our future…you picture it _here_?”

“Well, no. I guess not,” Alex admits.

Maggie ditches the laptop, and joins her wife on the couch, “Ok. So tell me.”

Alex looks at her like she’s insane, “Tell you…what?”

She smacks her leg lightly, “What you picture!”

“Oh, uh…” Alex shrugs, “I don’t know, exactly. It’s not like exact details, it’s sort of vague.”

Maggie tucks her feet up underneath her, “For example…?”

“Um…like us, just…having coffee together.”

Maggie nods along, like she’s trying to picture it too, “Ok. Where?”

Alex blanks, but Maggie grins and nudges her along, “You know, like…at the kitchen table? In bed?” she wiggles her eyebrows and Alex laughs, “On the couch? On the moon? Where are we having coffee?”

“Umm…on the front porch?” Alex decides.

Maggie grins, “Perfect.”

She leans over and rummages through the drawer on the end table, emerging with a dusty pen and a years-old issue of CatCo. She flips through the magazine until she finds a page with the least amount of writing on it and scribbles in a corner until the pen decides to work.

_Front porch_, she writes. She looks up at Alex with a soft smile, “See? That wasn’t so terrible, was it?”

…

They sit and talk and dream up fantasies of houses with big, fenced-in yards, and wraparound porches with multilevel patios, and built-in swimming pools with hot tubs and waterslides, and walk-in closets bigger than their current loft.

The list Maggie’s been scribbling looks a lot like a game of M.A.S.H.—which, when Alex mentions it, means they spend another half hour taking turns playing M.A.S.H.

When they manage to be serious, there are really only four things they decide they need: a front porch, a master bedroom with its own bathroom, outdoor space for a little garden, and a street with sidewalks. The former couple are Alex’s suggestions, the latter are Maggie’s.

But Alex is thrown by the last addition. She raises an eyebrow, “Sidewalks? Really?”

“I mean, our kids should be able to ride bikes—and not in the street,” she says casually.

Alex freezes, stunned, “Our…kids?”

Maggie blushes, “Yeah. I mean, I know we don’t exactly have any concrete plans or anything…but I like having the option.”

Alex heart swells, and she grins, unable to put into words just how much she loves her wife in this moment. Not because they have to have kids, but because it’s somehow still new, this person who is by her side, no matter what, taking into account a dozen different ways their life could go, and thinking about those outcomes five, ten, and fifty years from now. It takes her breath away.

“Ok,” she manages, trying not to cry, “Definitely sidewalks.”

…

Turns out three of the four items on their “must” list were things you couldn’t exactly type in as search parameters. And once you took apartments and condos out of the search, nearly every house had a yard with enough room for a small garden.

They’d bookmarked a few, but neither of them had really loved any of the houses they found—except for Maggie, who fell in love with a blue colonial house that seemed to have everything they wanted.

It’s nearly midnight, and Alex is pretty sure they’ve looked at pictures of every house in three counties that’s within their budget—and a handful that were definitely outside their budget. She asks if they can call it a night, and Maggie agrees.

She slides her laptop on the coffee table and leans back onto the couch. Alex stretches her legs out over her lap and Maggie pulls a blanket over them both, “You really don’t like that blue one? It seems like it could be perfect.”

Alex knows why she hates it, but she’s a little afraid of sounding like a crazy person. She hesitates only a second before coming clean, “You don’t think, maybe…it’s too big?”

Nothing they could afford seemed “too big” to Maggie. She furrows her brow, “Huh?”

Alex shrugs a little, “We could spend the whole day in that house together and never see each other. I don’t want that. I like this,” she looks between them both, at how they’re huddled in one corner of the couch under a blanket, and smiles.

“I’m pretty sure we can still snuggle in that living room. We can even put the same couch in it…” Maggie grins.

Alex shakes her head, “It’s not just this. It’s…brushing past you when I get in the shower in the morning and you’re getting ready for work. Or when everyone shows up at game night, and our living room is so small that you end up on my lap so someone else can have a seat.”

“Ya know, sometimes I do that even when there _are_ empty seats…” she grins, and Alex swats at her leg.

But Maggie starts to think about their life in this tiny apartment, and what things might change if they get a bigger house. “Though I do love sneaking kisses on your neck when you’re at the kitchen sink, and you’re blocking me from reaching the cabinets.”

“Oh,” Alex scoffs, “Well that won’t change,” she gets a mischievous glint in her eye, “because you’re too short to reach cabinets anyway.”

Maggie’s jaw drops in mock-offense, “How _dare_ you!” then she lunges, pinning Alex down and tickling her breathless, “You take that back right now!”

After a few minutes of struggling, Alex manages to grab both of Maggie’s wrists and holds them still, and they lock eyes.

The mood suddenly shifts. Maggie leans downs and kisses Alex softly, then more intense, until Alex’s grip loosens from her wrists to find her waist instead.

A loud clatter behind them makes them both jump apart. They peer over the back of the couch, toward the open window with particular red cape now tangled in the curtains, “Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t…I’m leaving. You weren’t answering the phone, but I uh…I see why—I mean _I see nothing!!_”

There’s another crash as a dining room chair topples over, “I’lltalktoyoulaterIloveyoubyeeee!”

Alex sighs as a gust of wind breezes over them both, and when she opens her eyes, Maggie’s I-told-you-so smirk says it all, “Yeah. You’re right. Bedroom door. Mandatory.”


End file.
